Afternoons in the Staff Room
by Narukami Aiko
Summary: [One-Shot. HPSS SLASH] For the past 8 years, he's watched me in the staff room. Why? Why is he always staring at me? Today is the last day that I put up with it...


**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Harry Potter" in any way, shape, or form... well, except that I own my own copies of the books and movies. So yeah. That's the only way I have any claim to "HP"! No harm is intended with this fic.

**A/N:** Hello all you lovely readers out there! Yes, I am alive! No, I have not given up on my other stories. My muses refuse to provide me with any information at the moment, so I'm sort of stuck in writer's block with my other fics. I promise to update all the others soon! There has, however, been this little incorporeal plot bunny hopping around in my head, which this is the result of. It's a bit of a departure from my usual HP stuff, but I consider this a bit of a personal challenge to myself! I hope you enjoy it!

**Summary:** One-shot (possibly to be expanded, depending on the kind of response I get to it) that deals with **HP/SS**! It is set 8 years after the final battle that took place during Harry's last year of school... so, naturally, it's quite AU.

**Warnings!:** This is a **SLASH** ficlet! Meaning it involves a pairing of the **male/male** persuasion! If you don't like it, then quit reading now and go find something more suitable! Mentions of suicide/cutting. Be warned. Also, these characters are probably going to be ... a bit, if not a lot, OOC! No, this is not Fluffy!Snape or anything, but it's still not quite in character.

Thanks, and now on with the show!

* * *

The afternoon was progressing much the same as it had every afternoon for the past 8 years (at least during the school term). Harry Potter sat in the far corner of the staff room, out of everyone's way, grading his students papers and marking them down in his grade book. Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress ever since Dumbledore had retired four years ago, sat in the opposite corner with Madame Hooch, Professor Sprout, and Professor Sinistra, gossiping. They always gossiped before dinnertime. The Professors Weasley (Hermione and Ron had been married just before the final battle at the end of their seventh year at Hogwart's) sat near the Headmistress, playing a game of chess and bickering (as they always had ever since they first met) over tiny, unimportant things.

* * *

And then there was Snape. He, as usual, was staring directly at Harry from his armchair by the fire. He always stared. At first, Harry had thought that perhaps the Potions Master was staring through him, or at the wall beside him, lost in thought. But Harry had, over the past 8 years worth of afternoons, noticed the way those onyx orbs had watched his every movement. It seemed the Potions Master was studying him, like he would carefully study the various reactions of different ingredients in his precious potions.

* * *

And the staring unnerved Harry. At the beginning of Harry's sixth year, it had been Severus Snape who had caught on to Harry's way to relieve his fears and anxieties – through cutting. And, at Christmas that same year, it had been Severus Snape who found Harry lying in a puddle of his own blood in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Snape had saved Harry's life, and had opened Harry's eyes.

* * *

It was then Harry realized he couldn't be selfish. He had the fate of the wizarding world resting on his shoulders, and he needed to accept that responsibility. After Harry had recovered from his attempted suicide, he sought out the most loathed teacher in the school – and he apologized. Harry apologized for acting like a prat, for not cooperating during Occlumency lessons that previous year, and most of all, he apologized for violating Snape's privacy by looking into his pensieve. The professor had forgiven him without a moments thought, and offered to resume Occlumency training. Harry had agreed, and had asked Snape to teach him the Dark Arts as a way to prepare for the path that he would have to take sooner than anyone expected.

* * *

The rest of Harry's sixth year was spent mostly in the dungeons, training with Snape. The Potions Master pushed Harry hard, and Harry appreciated Snape's efforts. At the end of the school year, Harry returned to the Dursley's more confident than he had been when he left for school that year. A week into the summer, Harry had gone out to the park for a while, with Tonks as an escort of course. When he had returned to Privet Drive, he immediately knew something was wrong. Harry ran back to number 4 and burst inside, where he was lucky enough to witness three Death Eaters simultaneously casting the Killing Curse at his relatives. Tonks burst in, grabbed Harry, and apparated back to 12 Grimmauld Place.

* * *

Harry had sunk into a deep depression after that day. He'd begun to cut himself again, blaming himself for the deaths of the Dursleys. Everyone died because of him, couldn't they see that?

* * *

He remained in his room at the Order's headquarters for two weeks, leaving only to use the bathroom. He wouldn't speak to anyone, he wouldn't even look at anyone.

* * *

It was two weeks to the day after the death of the Dursleys that Severus Snape burst through the door to Harry's room, startling the boy out of the trance he fell into while cutting himself. Without a word, Snape had grabbed the razor blade out of Harry's hand and tossed it aside. He then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it tightly around Harry's cut forearm, and then he sat on the bed, facing Harry. It was with watery eyes, and trembling hands, that Harry finally lifted his head to meet the Potions Master's gaze. "Why? Why did you stop me?"

To say that Harry was startled when the man before him suddenly reached out and embraced him would have been an understatement. Harry blinked, frozen in shock, as he was held tightly by Snape. He was even more startled when he felt a wet spot begin to form on his left shoulder, where Snape's head was. Slowly but surely Harry placed his own arms around the most feared teacher in Hogwart's. "Because," he heard the professor say softly, "I care whether you live or die."

* * *

That simple statement had shocked Harry out of his self-destructive cycle. After that day, Harry and Snape became more than just comrades in arms – they became friends. Snape trained Harry every day, always pushing him to his limits and beyond. But Harry appreciated it. Snape had always treated him just like everyone else, not like some hero to be worshipped on bended knee. That was one of the things that Harry really liked about Snape. At the end of the summer, Harry was psychologically prepared for what was to come, and was nearly prepared physically and emotionally.

* * *

His seventh year had started out fine. He continued his training every night with Snape down in the dungeons, and still managed to keep up with all his schoolwork. At Halloween the unthinkable happened – Snape was discovered as a spy for the Light. To say that Voldemort was furious would have been the biggest understatement ever. The Dark Lord was completely flabbergasted as to how one of his most trusted servants had been spying on him for the better part of twenty years without his knowledge. Somehow, though, Snape had made it back to the school alive. The headmaster was extremely worried though, because it seemed the Dark Lord had found a way to slowly and painfully drain away Snape's life force and magic through the Dark Mark. In a moment of pure genius, Harry decided to try to remove the Mark, and had somehow succeeded. He still, to this day, didn't know how exactly he had done it. He had only known that it _had_ to be done. He wasn't about to let Snape die on him after he had grown so close to the man.

* * *

Snape recovered from his ordeal quite quickly, and was discovered to be a changed man. He no longer prowled the halls scowling; he no longer snapped at every little thing. In fact, a group of third year Hufflepuffs fainted when one of their number tripped over Snape, and not only had he _not_ yelled, but he had helped the girl up and asked if she was alright.

* * *

The final battle came the second to last week of school. Thankfully, N.E.W.T.'s were over and done with, and the attack on the school didn't actually do much damage. Voldemort attacked in full force, but the school was prepared. The entirety of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as goblins, house elves, and all other manner of Light creatures helped to defend the school. The army of Death Eaters, Dementors, and vampires were quickly taken care of. And during all of this, Harry had managed to seek out Voldemort and erect a shield around the two of them so that none could interfere with their duel. Harry attacked the Dark Lord's mind with Legilimency, sending the Dark Lord thoughts of love, happiness, and friendship. It confused Voldemort, which made him drop his guard. Harry had figured out a few months before that most prophecies were quite literal, and when the prophecy said that _"one must die at the hands of the other"_, he knew that magic wouldn't be involved in killing the thing formerly known as Tom Riddle. So, while the Dark Lord was distracted, Harry somehow wandlessly summoned the Sword of Gryffindor to himself and plunged it through the heart of the Dark Lord while simultaneously casting a Soul Banishing spell.

* * *

The Dark Lord was dead, and this time there was no chance of him returning.

* * *

The war was over.

* * *

It was, however, not without a few casualties. Harry lost the last of the Marauders, Remus Lupin, and the first friend he'd ever made, Hagrid, in the battle. None of the students had been harmed, however, and the majority of the Order members had come out of the battle unscathed. Cornelius Fudge was discovered amongst the masked Death Eaters, and was immediately stripped of his title as Minister of Magic. The following week, during an emergency election, Arthur Weasley was given the title.

* * *

The day after the battle, Dumbledore had come to Harry and requested that he take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the following school year. Harry had agreed, of course, because he couldn't see himself leaving the school that he called his home. Ron and Hermione had been offered the position of joint professors for Care of Magical Creatures, and had accepted.

* * *

And his first term teaching was when it had all started. The staring. He had ignored it the first year. His second year teaching, it had begun to get on his nerves. The third year he had begun to stare right back, which usually resulted in the Potions Master abruptly leaving the room. The fourth year, Hermione had become Transfiguration professor when Dumbledore retired and McGonagall became Headmistress. He had then been distracted by playing chess with Ron in the afternoons. His fifth year it had begun to annoy him again. During his sixth and seventh years teaching, it had been alternating between annoying him, and his ignoring Snape.

* * *

Now, finally, he'd had enough. It was time to get to the bottom of it all. He turned his piercing emerald gaze on the Potions Master, who abruptly looked away and stood. The black robed man turned towards the door, "No, Severus. Don't leave."

Snape froze, then quickly turned to face Harry again. "What is it, Potter? I have papers to grade," he snapped irritably.

"Papers to grade? Then why, praytell, have you, for the past eight years we've been colleagues, spent every afternoon in here staring at me?!"

All eyes were on Snape and Harry as the Potions Master advanced on his younger colleague. "I have done no such thing, you insolent brat!"

"Yes, you have, Severus! Did you think I wouldn't notice? I've mostly ignored it over the years, but I just can't take it anymore! Why do you stare at me? I thought we were friends, but you've barely spoken to me since my last year in school here!"

Black eyes searched green ones for a moment before they closed, and the impossible happened – Snape leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Harry's lips. Harry's eyes widened in shock, then closed as a tingly sensation flowed through his body. He vaguely heard McGonagall gasp, followed by insane giggling from the Gossping Four, and confused shouting from the Professors Weasley.

Before he could properly enjoy what was happening, Snape pulled away and looked at him, searching for something. Without warning, Harry burst out laughing, and a hurt look crossed Snape's features before that stoic mask was back in place. The Potions Master turned to leave, but Harry placed a hand on his shoulder, making the man freeze in his tracks. "No, Severus, I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you."

"Then what, might I ask, _are_ you laughing at, Potter?'

"Your indecisiveness."

Snape arched an eyebrow at the younger man in front of him. "Indeed."

Harry grinned, "Don't be a git, Severus. I'm just a bit shocked is all."

"Shocked? Why? You've known my preferences for quite some time."

"Yes, well, everyone knows you fancy men, Severus, but I'm just shocked you fancy me." That black eyebrow arched again, questioning, urging Harry to continue. "I'm shocked... because I fancy you as well."

Harry was quite sure that he heard McGonagall faint over in the corner of the Gossiping Four, while Ron was spluttering, and Hermione was giggling. Hermione had, of course, known since Harry's seventh year that he was in love with Snape. Ron, while he had been informed of Harry's sexual preferences, had _not_ been told of Harry's crush on Snape, for fear that the shock of the situation might lead to the death of the youngest male Weasley.

Snape studied him carefully, searching for any signs that Harry might be joking. And so, to erase Snape's worries, Harry pulled Snape into another kiss, and wrapping his arms around the slightly taller man. He grinned against Snape's lips as he felt the Potion Master's arms snake around his waist. A few moments passed before Snape broke the kiss and pulled away from Harry slightly. "I have been waiting eight years to do that, you know."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Obviously. You've spent every afternoon for the past eight years driving me out of my mind by staring at me. It made me want to tackle you and snog you senseless, you know."

Snape raised both his eyebrows at that statement, and Harry grinned broadly. "Well, Harry, if you had only done as such you would not have had to put up with the staring for so long." Before Harry could come up with a witty retort, he found himself being dragged from the staff room, down to the dungeons, and straight into the comfy quarters of Severus Snape. "Now," Snape began as he gently pushed Harry down onto his bed, "shall we?"

* * *

**A/N:** Yay! I did it! I wrote it! Huzzah! That came out a bit better than I'd planned... and a bit _longer_ than I'd planned. But oh well. Hope you all enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed writing it. I greatly appreciate reviews, so I wouldn't mind if you left one, or two, or twenty! ;D Anyways, if you like my writing style, please check out some of my other stuff here on FFN. Thanks again! Oh, and let me know if you think that this should evolve from a one-shot into a short story. Thanks! Bye! 


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